Good King Uther
by Wynter Spite
Summary: In which Uther has a hidden kindness.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. Nor do I own my house, my car, my husband, my kids . . . oh, wait. I don't have any of those.**

Despite what some thought, it was not easy being king. There were times that were perplexing and wearying, days that were just exhausting, ending with him feeling heavy and drained.

On days like that, King Uther Pendragon went back to his bedchamber, settled down in a chair and did the one thing that soothed him and left him feeling calm and relaxed.

He knit.

The clacking of the needles filled the silence that would otherwise have been maddening.

He made sweaters, scarves, gloves, whole blankets created with a skill that could only come from years of performance.

When he was done with a project, he gave the knitted article to his elderly servant, Gage. Gage had been employed by the Pendragons for some sixty years. He was loyal, and knew not to breathe a word of where, exactly, the expertly crafted items came from. So he delivered them anonymously. It would not do, after all, for the King to be seen as soft.

No, it wouldn't do at all, Uther thought, as he worked on a new sweater for the baker's small daughter, just turned five.

Kindness could be seen as a weakness. Therefore, he would not be kind.

He held up the small item of clothing for a moment, then decided that it needed to be just a little longer, with a little flower just at the edge there.

Now, where was he? Oh, yes. Softness. It would not be tolerated in a king, and especially not this king.

Uther ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that asked who he was trying to fool.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for details.**

King Uther watched his son's manservant with calculating gray eyes. The boy, Merlin, shivered.

It was winter. His clothes were not nearly warm enough for this weather. And that-that thing he chose to wear around his neck was no shield against the frost. Of course he was cold.

What he needed, Uther thought, was a scarf. He seemed to prefer red, as the neckerchief he wore stated, but a nice ultramarine color would really bring out his eyes. ("Or perhaps deep midnight blue," Ygraine suggested.)

While he was at it, why not a sweater, to go with it? And a pair of gloves? Perhaps some socks, also. And a hat to wear over those ridiculous ears of his. Hmm . . .

Uther wondered if the boy's blanket was thick enough. Well, just in case, he would include a nice, snug quilt. Yes, that would do nicely.

He would tell Gage to see to it later.

Unfortunately, Uther had momentarily forgotten that Gage had been give a fortnight off, to visit his family. Bringing with him a bundle of items made personally by the King, of course.

Distracted by his thoughts, Uther turned a corner and nearly ran into the manservant. The young man nearly jumped back, staring up at the intimidating man with wide blue eyes.

Ygraine always said he had a thing about innocence. It made him melt, turning him into a large, hard-shelled chocolate with a soft, gooey center. Or so she said.

This was, he realized, a perfect opportunity. The hallway seemed to be empty save for them at the moment, and the boy didn't look to be in a hurry to do anything. Except get away from him, but he ignored that.

"You," he barked.

"S-Sire?"

Uther could practically feel his wife's amused sympathy. "Follow me. Now!" he added when the ("Poor," Ygraine whispered) young man looked to be frozen in place. The king turned and swept down the hall, not even glancing back to see if Merlin followed. Which, of course, he did. One didn't outright disobey the king, after all.

Once inside his chambers Uther went over to a chest of drawers, in which he kept all the things he made.

He opened them and began pulling out the things he'd planned for Gage to give to Merlin. Then he turned and deposited them in the bewildered manservant's arms. Uther frowned down at him. "Do you need a quilt?"

"Uh . . . what?" Merlin managed.

Uther grabbed a couple of quilts and placed them, too, in the boy's care. "Here. Take two. Give one to Gaius."

"But . . . I mean . . . what?"

"Do you want them or not, boy?"

Merlin stared at him. "I-uh-yes. Yes, I do."

"Then take them."

"Okay." The manservant was still looking at him.

"Well?" Uther frowned at him. "Run along."

"Oh-right!" Merlin began to back away, but at the door, he paused. "Thank you, Sire."

"Get on with it, boy," the king said in the gruff voice that Ygraine always teased him about, saying he only used it when he'd done or was about to do something kind. ("Uther," she'd say, mock-disapprovingly, "Were you being nice again?")

The boy left.

Uther lowered himself into a chair, leaning back with a sigh and letting his muscles relax. If Ygraine were there, she'd never have let him live it down.

("Never," the queen said gleefully.)


End file.
